Escaped
by Avoline Malfoy
Summary: Gone was the black suit he favored, replaced by an ill-fitting Hawaiian shirt and a ratty t-shirt. His neck was horribly chaffed, and he was covered in bruises and cuts. His beard and hair were in horrible need of care, and his eyes held a look she had never seen before. RATED M FOR LANGUAGE, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!


_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

* * *

 _So, I was inspired after last night's episode. And I thought "Crowley can get out of this."_

 _So this is what I think would happen if he were to escape Lucifer. I doubt he'd run to the boys, but surely he has someone to run to._

 _Anyway, sit back and enjoy!_

 _Love always,_

 _Avoline_

* * *

Helena glanced up at the frantic pounding on her door. She set the book aside and strode to the door, looking through the peephole to see Crowley standing on the other side. But she could tell something was wrong. The door opened, and her jaw dropped.

Gone was the black suit he favored, replaced by an ill-fitting Hawaiian shirt and a ratty t-shirt. His neck was horribly chaffed, and he was covered in bruises and cuts. His beard and hair were in horrible need of care, and his eyes held a look she had never seen before. A mix of fear, despair, sorrow, and defeat. The man before him wasn't Crowley, King of Hell, nor was he Crowley, King of the Crossroads.

He was a broken shell of the man she loved.

"Crowley," she whispered, his name slipping from her lips, and she saw the tears forming in his gaze. "Oh, God, Crowley, what happened to you? How long were you in Hell?" He staggered past her, and she swiftly closed the door, turning to him, her heart heavy with dread. "Where's Rowena? Did she do this to you?" He shook his head, but remained silent as he sank to the couch. "Crowley, please, talk to me." He stared at the wall, his face haunted, and she moved to crouch in front of him, taking his hands in hers.

She wasn't sure what to do. He was always the one in control, the one who comforted her when her life spiraled out of control. But now his life, the one he had told her about but kept her from, was clearly destroyed, and she couldn't return the favor. Her hands were shaking, while his, in spite of everything, were steady and unmoving. She wanted so badly to help him, but she didn't have the slightest clue how to break through the fog surrounding him.

 _Crowley is always in control, always on top of the world..._

But this wasn't Crowley in front of her.

The light bulb clicked on, and she leveled her gaze with his. Crowley was the one who always knew what to do, but there was another side to the man she loved, and she was seeing it now. She knew now what to say to clear the haze in his mind.

"Fergus," she murmured, and she saw his pupils focus, bringing him into the moment. "Fergus, talk to me. What happened to you, love?" A tear slipped down his face as he took a deep breath.

"Lucifer got out," he breathed. "Castiel, the damn idiot. He said yes to Lucifer. He's Lucifer's puppet now. First thing the Devil did was..." He swallowed, the tears nearly streaming now. "He killed Rowena. He killed her, like she was nothing but a tool to him. And maybe she was, but she was still my mother. We were making progress." She sat next to him on the couch, and he instantly wrapped his arms around her middle. "He put me in a cage. He put an iron collar around my neck and chained me like an animal. He took everything from me." She rubbed his back as he wept, soothing him like he would her, until his sobs died down and his quivering lessened.

"Look at me," she ordered softly, and he sat up, their eyes meeting. "We'll get through this; _you_ will get through this. You've made it this far being so patient and cunning, and you _will_ get your throne back." He shook his head.

"How," he croaked. "Helena, how? He's bloody Lucifer. I can't possibly overthrow him, not when he's the only archangel left." She stood.

"I can," she deadpanned, marching to her room and opening the door in the closet. She could hear him scrambling after her as she gathered the tools needed to defeat the Devil himself. She grabbed the angel blade Gabriel had given her, as well as the holy oil the Winchesters had provided her. A hand closed around her wrist, and she leveled her stare with his.

"Don't," he pleaded. "Please, don't. He's taken everything from me."

"Exactly," she answered. "He destroyed everything you built. I won't just stand by and let him get away with it!" She turned to grab the magazine of angel bullets, only to be blocked by Crowley. "He has your throne!"

"I don't care," he confessed. "If I get the Throne of Hell back, great. And I won't lie, I mourn my mother, but only because of the progress we could have made. But if I loose you, I'm finished." She shot him a questioning look. "Of all the places I could have gone, I came to you. You are my only friend, the only constant in my life, and the only reason I've changed as much as I have. I need you."

"You'll move on," she stated calmly, hiding the pang of hurt in her heart. "You've lived this long before I came along. You've seen humanity change, people come and go. I'm no different. Just another human. You'll reclaim the throne without me-"

"But it won't be worth it," he interrupted. "I'd be miserable at best. Every memory of you would consume me, making it impossible to actually run Hell." His scared hands gently grasped her shoulders, and she marveled at how tender his touch was. "I love you, Helena, and I can't exist without you. Damn the throne, damn the crown, damn all of it, every last bit of it, cause none of it is worth it without you."

Her jaw dropped again. Did he really mean what he said? Or was he playing her for a fool?

"Fergus, you can't possibly mean that," she muttered, still using his human name.

"But I do," he sighed. "I won't lie, I fought it at first. I fought so hard, because the Throne did mean so much to me. But you can't fight what's meant to be, and before I knew it, you had infiltrated every part of me." His hands rubbed her arms, and she could see the previous emotions fade. "As long as I knew you were safe, even when you went on hunts, I was fine. I could function. These past few weeks in Hell, I've been almost crippled with fear. I was so afraid that he would find out about you, and I would loose you." The tears returned again, and she reached up to wipe them from his face. "You're my everything. When I say I need you, I mean it. I can find a way to make you immortal, but if you go after Lucifer and he kills you, you'll be forever out of my reach. I can't risk that."

She was crying now, her face soaked, the tools to defeat the archangel long forgotten. He loved her, he needed her, and damn it, she felt the same way. All of her dreams were coming true, and she felt like celebrating.

"Don't cry, love, please," he soothed, wiping her face with grimy fingers. "You know you get hoarse when you cry, and damn, you make my name sound good." She buried her face in his chest, and it was his turn to rub her back. "I'm sorry, darling. I never meant to make you cry."

"They're happy tears," she mumbled against the thin cotton t-shirt. "They're happy tears. I've never been so happy before, and you've just put me on cloud nine." She pulled back slightly and smiled at him. "I still want Lucifer dead." He chuckled.

"As do I," he agreed. "But first, we need to devise a plan."

"And we need to doctor that neck," she pointed out. "It's chaffed so badly, I don't think you'll be able to wear much of anything resembling a tie for a while." He nodded.

"Don't go after Lucifer," he repeated. "I know you're angry. I am too. But if he kills you, I don't think I can go on." She leaned up and pressed her lips to his.

"I won't," she vowed. "I promise, I won't go after him. I'll stay safe, by your side." He smiled at her, all negative emotions in his eyes replaced by love and adoration.

"And when I reclaim the throne, you'll be by my side as Queen of Hell."


End file.
